Home
by ImpossibleThings
Summary: Susan finally comes home.


The doorbell of the quaint cottage rang, alerting Susan to the postman's presence on her doorstep. It could only be the postman; no one came to visit anymore. There was no one to visit her, in any case.

After the train crash that stole her family from the world, she had no interest in pursuing romance or a family. Only survival was on her mind; how was she supposed to live? How was she supposed to get by if she ran out of money before the rent on her London flat was due? From the moment she opened the door to the grave policemen, she was alone in the world. Since then, she had focused on getting an education, working nights at the café below her flat to pay for all the debts that had fallen on her once she was orphaned. After graduating, she taught biology to eager 15 year olds at a lovely private school in the countryside. It hurt too much to be there sometimes, the large, lush grounds of the school reminding her constantly of the setting of her first great adventure. On those days she'd stay in bed, thinking of nothing but running on the beaches of Narnia, frolicking in the waves with Peter, Edmund and Lucy. The pain she felt was crippling when she remembered Lucy's long hair, plaiting it for her when she was finally old enough to stay up with the adults when guests came over for a party. The thought of Peter's piercing blue eyes, the same colour as the magnificent sea and the sky above, his smile that shone with great joy and wisdom, brought nothing but headaches from crying. And Edmund's cunning mind, the genius he had for practical jokes and inventing new games, felt like a stab in the heart whenever she recalled it. Susan tried to tell herself that they'd lived a rich life growing up in Narnia, their rule bringing nothing but happiness and prosperous times to the Narnians; she tried to convince herself that their shortness of life in England meant nothing. After the train crash, the memories she'd be denying and storing in a locked box in the back of her mind burst free, reminding her of why she wasn't chosen by Aslan to grace his wondrous shores. She had forgotten; the pain of not being able to dwell in her beloved Narnia too great, the thought of losing Caspian too much to bear. Her refusal to believe was a defence mechanism, nothing more: certainly nothing intentional against Aslan. _They all have weaknesses,_ thought Susan; _why was her inability to handle pain so unforgiveable?_

And so Susan passed her life in solitude, caring for her students and educating generation after generation until it was time for her to retire. Of course she hadn't been idle all her years; she taught during the week at the school but spend her weekends sorting clothes out in the charity shops that were dotted around the local town. The holidays were not spent alone; the homeless shelters in the cities were full of people just like her: scared and lonely. She met everyone with kindness, and could only hope that she made their lives a little better for a while. Self pity wasn't an option for her daily life; despite the breakdowns that occurred every few months, getting further apart as she grew in age, it would be irresponsible to let suffering happen when she had the means to help. Even in Narnia, she had been one of the pioneers for better rights for the citizens. She was adored by all she met. So when it was time to retire, her colleagues had thrown a small but charming party, with cake and small gifts that showed Susan her co-workers were not friends, merely people she knew who saw but one aspect of her life.

At the sound of the doorbell, she slowly struggled out of her armchair she was nestled in, cursing her old bones and weak muscles. She paused in front of the mirror to inspect her appearance. Her grey hair was pulled into a tight bun, her once plump lips thinner than they had been in earlier years. _Acceptable_, she thought, and opened the door.

"Good morning, Ms Pevensie!" Harry, her postman, was a young lad of about 20 who always greeted her with a smile. In some ways, he reminded her of a happier version of Edmund when he was around the same age. It always sent a pang to Susan's heart, but it was nice to have some friendly company beyond the attendant at the village store who always had time for a little chat.

"Good morning, Harry. What have you got for me today?"

"Just your regular monthly science magazine, Ms Pevensie."

"Ah. Well, thank you Harry. It's always a pleasure to see you."

"And you, Ms Pevensie!" He strolled back down the winding path to his waiting van, whistling a cheery tune. Susan smiled, putting the magazine on her side table and shutting the door, and wandered into the kitchen to start on some breakfast. She hadn't been sleeping well lately. Her dreams were haunted by whispered curses and a constant cold that she couldn't seem to escape, keeping her up late into the night until she could fall asleep again, only to be faced with wild, leaping flames and a terrifying roar, accompanied by pins and needles that without fail forced her from her sleep at 5 am. Every night before sleep she'd pray to Aslan, praying for the souls of her lost family, praying for those she'd loved long ago, and praying, above all, for forgiveness. Going around her daily routine at her modest cottage, she'd fill her time with meaningless thoughts, only to come back to one: _I believe in Aslan. _She knew the only way to Aslan's country was by believing that with Aslan, anything was possible. She could feel somehow that her time on the earth was coming to an end, and she could only hope that Aslan would have mercy for her years of abandonment and take her to her family. 

Winter was coming upon England once more, and Susan found herself unable to make her yearly journey into the city to visit the shelter. She was disappointed but resigned; at 68 years old, she knew her old body didn't match her still young mind. After a pleasant church service on Christmas Eve's night, she walked to her cottage, longing for the comfort of her bed. She arrived home in the darkness just before midnight, not bothering to stop and turn on some lights, but heading straight to the bedroom that overlooked her small garden. She dressed in the dark, slipped beneath the sheets and sent a prayer to Aslan, hoping for a peaceful night's sleep.

In her dream, she was on a beach. Her feet were resting in the ocean, and they looked young and strong. Susan stood up and found herself to be 16 again; her long, near-black hair swung about her back, and a simple crown sat upon her head. In the sunshine, she beamed in wonderment. For the first time in years, she laughed loudly in genuine happiness. Susan couldn't help it; she twisted round and round in circles, dancing in the sand, rejoicing in the bright morning sun. She slowly twirled to a stop, falling back upon the sand, when she heard voices calling to her.

"Susan?"

"Susan! _Susan_!"

"Susan!"

She bolted upright, gazing to her right as three people ran out from around from the caves situated at the end of the golden sand. Lucy came first, only a young girl with the shortest pleat in her hair, her crown glinting in the sunlight. Behind her, Edmund ran with a look of glee shining from his youthful face, threatening to overtake Lucy in a race to reach their long missed sister. Behind the two, Peter jogged towards Susan. He knew there was no need to run to Susan, as they would have all the time in the world; he was weeping in ecstasy. Of all the family, Peter and Susan had been the closest; nearest in age, they stuck together through thick and thin. The handsome boy finally reached his embracing siblings and hugged them all together, tears flowing freely from everyone. The High Kings and Queens were finally reunited: Susan was home.


End file.
